


Gone Fishing

by southsidewrites



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Cute, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Funny, Love, Romace, boyfriend fangs, fangs being cute, fishing with fangs, romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 16:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14918820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidewrites/pseuds/southsidewrites
Summary: You’re out fishing on Crystal Lake with your boyfriend Fangs when you start to get bored.  He’s determined not to be distracted by your nonsense, but there’s only so much he can do when you resort to drastic measures to convince him to go home.





	Gone Fishing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for checking this out!!
> 
> Written for Day Three of @buggiebreak's Southside Showcase on Tumblr.

Leaning back, you rested your head on the smooth metal bench seat.  Even in the beating sun, the surface was cool against your exposed shoulders.  You allowed your eyes to drift shut, drinking in the heat of the sun and the sound of the waves lapping gently on the metal hull of the tiny fishing boat Fangs had borrowed from his grandfather.  A cool breeze drifted across your face, and for a moment, you felt completely at peace.

Then, something cold and wet slapped against your thigh.

“Fuck, Fangs, if that was another fish—” You sat up to see that, sure enough, it was another fish.

“Sorry, babe,” he laughed, wrestling the fish off the hook to throw it back in the lake. “They’re just so damn jumpy today.”

You groaned and tipped your head back onto the bench, trying to ignore the sickly feeling of fish on your legs. “Fangs, I’m bored, when can we go home?”

“Go home?  But babe, this is the ideal way to spend a lazy Saturday afternoon.” There was a whir and splash as Fangs cast again. “After all, fishing is the perfect balance of relaxation and intrigue.”

“Intrigue?” You lifted your sunglasses from your face and tucked them into your hair before sitting up to face your boyfriend.  “Literally the only thing that’s intriguing me right now is contemplating how long it would take me to swim back to shore.”

“Now, that’s a bit dramatic.” He gave you an amused look. “Anyways, I know damn well you’d never risk your outfit for something as dumb as that.”

“Don’t test me, Fogarty.  Boredom drives people to do incredible things.” You huffed with frustration, blowing a lock of loose hair from your face. “Now, back to the point—why the hell is fishing intriguing?”

“Well, you see, my dear Y/N, I never know what type of fish I’m going to get next, or when the perfect one will come along and take the bait.” Cupping your cheek, he leaned in close to place a soft kiss against your lips.

You gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, really?  Because all I’ve seen so far is you catching barely any fish, and all of them have been tiny.”

Still grinning, he rolled his eyes and cast his line again.  In the bright summer sunlight, his black hair was nearly shining.  Somehow, he even made shorts and a t-shirt look damn good. “You just lack patience.”

“And you’re going to lack a girlfriend if I have to put up with this much longer.”

 He laughed, clearly not taking your obviously idle threat seriously. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, babe, whatever you say.”

You groaned as loudly as you could, the sound echoing over the serene lake.  Pulling your sunglasses back over your eyes, you leaned back onto the spare seat again.  If you had to be bored to death, the least you could do was try to get a decent tan out of it.  Before you could really settle in, though, there was another wet slap against your thigh.

“Fangs _fucking_ Fogarty,” you fumed, shooting upright. “I swear to god, I will—”

Your jaw dropped when you saw Fangs sitting there, a fish in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Fangs, did you just _intentionally_ slap me with a fish?”

“Maybe I did,” he replied, tossing the fish back in the water where it promptly swam away. “Maybe I didn’t.  What do you plan to do about it?”

You bit your lip, restraining yourself from tackling him right there.  Not only would he overpower you in a heartbeat, you would probably accidentally tip the boat in the process.  It was a risk you weren’t willing to take.  You had to do something, though.  He slapped you with a goddamn fish—that couldn’t go without retaliation.  You looked around, contemplating the resources you had at hand.  Neither of you had brought much—a few snacks, the tackle box, two fishing poles (on the off chance you changed your mind), and a sweatshirt in case you got chilly.  Nothing that could be easily tossed off the boat or repurposed into a semi-harmless weapon.

Your silence was all the answer he needed. “I thought so.  Short of pushing me off the boat, which would end poorly for both of us, there’s nothing you can do.”

“I don’t know why I’m still dating you.”

“Because you loooooove me,” he drawled.  Still grinning proudly, he returned to his fishing.  As he cast, he startled whistling a cheerful tune to rub it in.

Clenching your teeth, you let out a slow sigh of frustration.  Then, an idea occurred to you—you may not be able to win this battle, but you could sure as hell use every skill you had to get the boat back to shore.  You started by letting down your hair, ruffling it in the messy way you knew Fangs loved.  Then, you adjusted your top, sliding it down just enough to show the top of your bra and give yourself the kind of cleavage that would have parents and teachers everywhere up in arms.  Once you felt fully prepared, you slid off the bench seat and onto Fangs’s bench, squeezing into the little space next to him.

 “Babe, what are you doing?” he asked, barely glancing back at you.

“Oh, just hanging out,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his waist and sliding them under his white t-shirt. “Getting comfy.”

“Y/N, there’s no way this is going to work.”

“No way what’s going to work?” You asked, pressing your lips into the back of his neck. “I’m just taking advantage of this remarkably private opportunity to spend some time together.” Smirking, you ran one hand up his abs and the other down to the waistband of his shorts, teasing the soft material with your fingertips.

Fangs swallowed hard.  Keeping his gaze firmly on the water in front of him, he cast again. “It’s not going to work, babe.”

You pressed more soft kisses into his neck, working your way down to his shoulders.  “God, you’re so fucking hot, baby,” you murmured.

His heart rate increased, and you smiled proudly.  He may have been doing his best not to show it, but Fangs was getting turned on too.  He still hadn’t turned around, though, and he was doing his best to keep fishing. 

“This is taking way too damn long,” you muttered. “Time for Plan B.”

“What’s— _fuck,_ Y/N, stop!” He wiggled quickly out of your grasp as you started poking his side.  You had learned early on in your relationship that Fangs was ticklish.  Most of the time, you did your very best to _avoid_ tickling him, but stuck on that fishing boat, all bets were off.

“What Fangs?” you asked, trying not to laugh as you climbed to the front of the little boat with him. “Did that tickle?”

“Y/N,” he stammered, scrambling backward until he was nearly hanging off the edge. “Don’t you dare—”

You cut him off by grabbing his waist, squeezing just hard enough to elicit a dramatic, thrashing response.  He grabbed at your hands, trying to stop you, but you were too quick, and he was still doing his best to wiggle free. “I’ll stop if we can go back to shore, Fangs.  All you need to do is say we’re done fishing.”

“No way—I—” he cut off, laughing and groaning simultaneously. “I will not give in to this sort of torture.”

“Damn shame,” you laughed, still poking at his sides and dodging his grabby hands. “And to think you could have gotten laid instead.”

“This is so wrong, Y/N, you—”

Changing tactics, you squeezed hard on his most ticklish spot, just below his ribs.  Instead of being pleased with your success, though, you regretted it immediately.

Fangs grabbed your waist tightly.  Frantically trying to get you off of him, he whipped you to the side, throwing you off the boat and into the lake.  You landed with a splash, shutting your mouth as quickly as you could.  You still got a mouthful of water and a face-full of weeds.  Nearly choking, you pushed off the sandy bottom and towards the air.  You burst out, sputtering and coughing.  Your wet hair was plastered to your face, and you had to keep blinking to clear the water from your eyes.

“Fangs, what the fuck?” You were half-treading water now, the depth being just above the height you could comfortably stand. “I can’t believe you just threw me in the lake!”

“I’m sorry, babe,” he laughed, his breath still heavy as he leaned over the edge of the boat. “But you know I can’t be held responsible for my actions when I’m being tickled.”

You shook out your hair, trying to keep the wet locks off your face.  Doing your best to keep a straight face, you looked up at his amused expression. “Just help me back in the boat, you moron.”

“Alright, calm down.” Fangs leaned over the side of the boat and reached both his hands toward you.  You gripped them tightly, despite the slipperiness of your own hands.  Then, you braced your feet against the hull of the boat, bit back a smile, and tugged with all your might.  Fangs tumbled into the water on top of you with a splash, rocking the boat nearly to the point of tipping. 

Sputtering, Fangs popped up from the water, a look of pure betrayal on his face.  You broke down laughing, and he rolled his eyes. “You know, I really should have anticipated that.”

“You should have,” you agreed, grabbing his shoulders and using his height to hold you above the water. “Really, it’s a classic retaliatory move when someone throws you in a lake unprovoked.”

“Unprovoked?” His eyes widened, and he grabbed your waist lightly, squeezing in just the right way to make you squirm ticklishly. “You’ve got a short memory, beautiful.”

You clung to him more tightly, a shiver running through you when you realized how warm he was. “Fangs,” you whined. “Stop.”

Tucking your wet hair behind your ear, he kissed you softly. “A little cold, babe?”

“Maybe a little.” You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing every inch of your body against his. “So, did my grand plan to get us both too wet to keep fishing work?”

He rolled his eyes again, kissing you on the cheek. “I have a feeling you’re lying about there being some grand plan, but yes, it worked.”

“Good.” You leaned in to kiss him more fully, but just before your lips touched his, something cold and slimy brushed against your leg.  You shrieked, tensing around him. “What the fuck was that?”

“Jesus, Y/N,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Trying to make me go deaf too?”

“No, no, no,” you muttered, climbing his body like a koala to get away from whatever had touched you. “Something gross just touched my leg.”

“Babe, stop climbing, you’re going to drown me.”

“Don’t care,” you replied, reaching for the boat.

He was scrambling to stay upright while you used him as a jungle gym. “It was probably just a weed or something.”

“Still don’t care.” You gripped the side of the boat to pull yourself back in.  Unfortunately, Fangs was stronger, and he pulled you back down to him.

“Hey, stay.”

“Stay?  What am I, a dog?”

“No, just a climby girlfriend doing her best to trap me underwater.” He kissed you lightly on the lips. “Now, I will help you back in the boat if you promise not to tickle me anymore.”

“Depends, are we done fishing?”

He rolled his eyes, but it was clear that he was trying not to smile. “Yes, we’re done fishing for now.  Anyways—” He kissed his way down your jaw to the most sensitive part of your neck. “We’re going to need to get you out of those wet clothes before you freeze to death.”

You laughed breathily, your head tipping back to allow him better access. “That sounds like an excellent deal to me.”

“Good.” Pulling your tank top strap down, he pressed a rough kiss into your shoulder. “And maybe I’ll even—oh fuck!” He jumped, nearly tossing you back into the water.

“What?”

“Something slimy just touched my leg.”

“It’s probably just a weed or something,” you mocked, lowering your voice into your best Fangs impression.

“Well fuck that, we’re going home.” He hauled you back into the boat, pulling himself in right behind you.  Both of you were soaking wet, and it was starting to get cold as the sun set into late afternoon. “Grab an oar, babe.”

Shaking with silent laughter, you grabbed the oar and started rowing with him. “What happened to _it was just a weed_?”

He turned around to glare at you. “Do you want me to throw you back in?  Because I _will_ throw you back in.”

“Nope.”

“Good, now paddle.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, let me know what you thought!


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